


Blindsided

by taranoire



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst and Porn, Blindfolds, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:21:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1335250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taranoire/pseuds/taranoire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy Mustang visits a brothel for some cheap, harmless entertainment and winds up in trouble when the whore turns out to be Edward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blindsided

Roy doesn’t quite like not being able to see, but he’s been promised an evening he’ll never forget (“the whore will be blindfolded, and so will you, for the first half hour—a mere 40,000 cenz for the whole package”). So here he is, nervously sitting on the edge of a bed, in a plush room that he remembers as being quite small and rustic. This isn’t the best gentleman’s club in town but he was looking for something low-key. 

His only criteria was “surprise me.” He supposes a literal blind affair with a nameless, faceless prostitute will do—will soothe the nightmares away. Touch, lick, orgasm, bliss, sleep. It’s all he asks. 

The door opens and his ears tingle attentively. Soft footsteps indicate they aren’t wearing heels, or perhaps any shoes at all. The individual crosses to the bed slowly, and then stands before him, possibly trying to work up the courage to go through with it.

Roy requested silence. He does not want to know this person any more intimately than necessary. 

They crawl into his lap, thighs on either side of his, careful and slow, and Roy cannot help but pick up on small details. The scent of honey, cotton, oil. The brush of leather. The lips at his neck, slightly chapped, but soft. Hair, a bit longer than shoulder length. He puzzles over their sex for some time, intrigued no matter the answer, and then groans quietly when they grind a little into his lap: he. 

He, he, he…

Roy groans softly in encouragement, knowing the no-speaking rule applies to him as well, and turns his head to give him better access to his neck, his jaw, the hint of bone beneath his unbuttoned collar. 

Roy moves his hands beneath the boy’s shirt, trying to picture his body in his head. The definition of his bones. The way his muscles tense, relax. How he looks when he moves. His spine. His slender waist. It’s all very erotic, really; thinking about it, soft skin beneath his fingertips, but not seeing. 

Down, down…

God, he has a fabulous ass. Roy squeezes it tight and the boy jolts down against him, moaning softly against his cheek—fuck, what an incredible sound. Breathy and low. Roy pays some attention to him, his needs, holding him against himself and licking a hot line up his neck, trembling jaw, nibbling at his ear. 

Clearly no one devotes this kind of energy to the sexy little thing, because he whines and gives a few shallow thrusts into Roy’s crotch. Roy longs to whisper dirty, sexy, sweet things into his ear, describe exactly what he wants to do to him, every fantasy, but there’s that damn rule he enacted. 

(I would devote days to exploring your body, tasting your skin, tie you up for my pleasure and make you squirm, make you beg for my touch or my tongue or my cock) 

The boy shakes against him as he starts to move again, this time with more practiced grace, a routine of arousal. There’s intent to it. Fluidity. He touches and kisses and pants into his neck, his skin, rubbing against him like a possessive cat. 

Lips on his. Tongue in his mouth. Yes. Roy puts his hands on either side of his head, controlling him now, wanting to be his every thought, wanting him to remember this night when he’s screwing other men. The boy whimpers and lets him take over, passive but groaning softly as he is ravished. 

Roy has never tasted anything so wonderful. So sweet. So sexy. His desire is so strong he has violent urges to be rough with him, to break him, to shove his dick in his mouth until he chokes, to take him on this bed right now without any preparation. Make him scream with raw pleasure, the force of his body inside of his. 

The boy presses him down against the mattress, crawling up his body, tries to gain some semblance of control again. But he’s shaky. He’s weak. He’s whimpering. His fingers clumsily ghost down to unbutton Roy’s pants, trembling even more when he feels how hot and hard the man is for him. 

All it takes is one move for Roy to have him pinned to the bed, manacling the boy’s wrists with his hand and the other snaking down towards his zipped leather trousers. 

Roy kisses him again. Bites his lower lip. “I’m sure you feel rather vulnerable right now,” he whispers, breaking his rule for just a moment. The boy moans in response. Roy rips the zipper open and jerks down his leather pants, need clutching him tightly when he realizes he isn’t wearing any underwear—just skin, just soft thighs and slightly wet sex. 

He wraps his hand around him. Starts to move it. The blond whines and tries to fuck his hand, back arching off the bed, sobs catching in his throat. Roy can feel him straining to get his wrists free. 

Face-down on the bed. Good boy.

Desperately Roy gets his own pants down and then rocks against him, too engrossed to worry about really taking him now—there’ll be time for that once the blindfolds are off. For now he wants this, the closeness, the quickness, the dirtiness, skin against skin and soft moans as he strokes the young whore beneath him. 

"Fuck, you’re a dirty little slut, aren’t you—” 

"—yes—" 

Roy can smell the sweat in his hair.

The boy tenses and jerks into his hand, cries catching in his throat, and the sound of his orgasm tears into Roy like a bullet. Once that happens, it’s over, and Roy is gritting his teeth and breathing him in and easing him through the aftershocks as he comes hot and sticky between his legs. 

His heartbeat is loud in his ears and it’s a few moments of silence, of breathing, of shaking before he finally sits up and tears the blindfold off. 

"If you thought that was good, wait until I’m actually inside of you," he says breathlessly, smirking. "You’re incredible." He turns to help his partner remove their blindfold, but finds—to his horror—that it’s already undone and limp in the boy’s hand. 

His automail hand. 

"Colonel," Edward acknowledges nervously. 

"Oh my God…" 

"It isn’t—I promise there’s a good reason I’m—" 

"Oh my God." 

"N-no one else knows, not even Al knows, you can’t tell Al…" 

"Fullmetal," Roy interrupts, feeling like he’s about to faint. He clasps the bed sheets in a closed fist, trembling and nauseous. "I came on you. I touched you. Is it—is it not even occurring to you right now that that’s something I’m definitely not allowed to do?!” 

"To be fair, you didn’t know it was me," Ed says quietly. 

True, but the signs were all there. Edward’s body, his scent, the pitch of his moans, these are things that Roy should have recognized. Shouldn’t he have? Or is the fact that Roy knows his body (the way he moves when he’s in a fight) and his scent (that red jacket he always wears is so warm) and the tone of his voice (grating, but sometimes so soft, so innocent, so sensual) evidence that he should be arrested? 

But that’s not the question Roy should be lingering on right now. Swallowing doesn’t erase the hoarseness from his voice. “Why are here, Edward?” 

Ed flinches, then looks away. “It’s complicated. Why’re you?” 

"It’s…complicated. But that’s not an answer I can accept from you. Do you need money? Are you in trouble? Has someone hurt you? Or threatened to hurt you, or Alphonse, or—" He trails off, because Edward does not look like he will answer any of those questions. "Is there anything I can do?" 

"You had sex with me," Ed says bitterly. "You paid and you had sex with me and that’s the end of it." 

"But I didn’t—"

"You bought sex and you got it, what the fuck else do you want me to say?” Edward snaps. “Don’t be all high-and-mighty and want to rescue me when you just dry-humped me and told me what a good slut I am. You’ve got no business helping anyone in here.” 

Roy is silenced by this. His subordinate is half-naked and cold and in trouble and there is nothing he can do about it because he’s actively taken part in it. “I’m sorry.” 

Edward’s eyes soften. He wraps his arms around his legs and lays his head on his knees. “It’s okay.” He bites his lip, hesitating. “I liked it. I’d rather do you than anyone else in here.” 

Roy smiles sadly. “Why do it in the first place?” 

Ed sighs. “Money,” he admits. “Off-book transactions. There’s some things I can’t use military funds for. That’s all I can say about it. For now. I’d tell you more, I would, but—I’m not gonna incriminate you in this. Just don’t ask anything else.” 

"And what happens now?" 

"You leave," Ed says. "Unless you want to finish what you paid for. In which case—you can put the blindfold back on, or whatever makes it easier to…" 

"You are not what I paid for." 

"Oh." Ed looks slightly hurt. He shakes it off and then jerks his head towards the door. "Then you go home and we never speak of this again. And you pretend you didn’t touch me and I pretend I don’t do—this. And we all get on with our happy little lives." 

Roy nods his head soberly, trying not to think about how much he would like to touch Ed again, if not tonight then—eventually. He, he, he. He is incredible. Roy buttons his pants and fixes his mussed hair in a mirror, shocked by how pale he looks. 

He hesitates at the door. “Ed…” 

"Generally, you’re supposed to leave a tip," the blond says without looking at him. "If you don’t they’ll think I was shit and I’ll get in trouble. So. Do that. Please."

Roy feels—numb. He carefully pulls a few 1000 cenz bills from his coat pocket, and lays them neatly on a dresser. “I—I left 4000. Is that okay? Is that…” 

Edward nods. “Thanks.”


End file.
